


Scars

by emsallthat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Emotions, F/M, Post-War, References to Depression, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:47:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28853787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emsallthat/pseuds/emsallthat
Summary: Hermione struggles with the scars of her soul and body. And it's not an easy fight when someone you trusted has caused the wounds. / Post-war. Translation from Polish.
Kudos: 1





	Scars

**SCARS**

* * *

**I**

* * *

Another day passed in silence, broken only by the constant ticking of the clock and her own breath. After all, why would she say something when words had no effect?

It was pointless to speak aimlessly, with no overriding value over the sentences. She didn't need to hear her voice, she knew it all too well, she knew her voice could betray her when she didn’t expected it.

She looked out the window at a world as stagnant as her soul. There was total silence in this grey, colourless world. Same as in her life for some time.

She knew that running away was one of the worst options, but then she had no idea of another way out of this situation. She had to hide at the end of the world, somewhere where even thoughts could not reach her.

But it was unreal.

The words might not come out of her mouth, but her thoughts were bombarding her mind like seasoned soldiers aiming at an enemy. Memories hammered her mind, echoed through her skull.

It was useless to try to fight them.

They returned anyway, attacking with all their might.

Hermione tried to reflect them, but with each passing day her stone armor crumbled, revealing all weaknesses.

_Everything was going well. The post-war balance was not too bad, they managed to save the foundations of the magical world. They became the heroes of the Second War with The-Whose-Name-Not-Was-Already-Scary. But all magic comes with a price._

She went to the mirror and touched its surface with her hand, trying not to look at the reflection. She ran her hand over the surface of the mirror and looked up a little unconsciously. There was a nasty red line on her cheek all the way down to her neck, with uneven, jagged edges. A memento of Fenrir Greyback, a memento that refused to heal for weeks. No spells, not even the strongest ones, affected scar. She touched her fingertips and followed the trail carved in her skin. She hissed in pain, the wound still painful and tender. Even though the pus has stopped oozing, the skin still hasn't healed. And she probably didn't intend to do so anytime soon. She sighed softly. A scar that will accompany her for the rest of her life. The stigma with which she was marked.

_She was smiling, but it was a forced smile. Living fire burned her cheek, infuriated like a bloody fire. She couldn't stop the bleeding, she didn't even know exactly what the wound looked like. In the heat of battle, she didn't think about it - her appearance was always one of the least important things._

A hot cup of tea in her hands enveloped her with a pleasant warmth. The scent of tea with lemon and cinnamon soothed her bruised nerves, made her forget. For a moment.

She heard a soft knock and felt her whole body tense immediately, ready to run away.

"Just take it easy," she took a deep breath, put her cup down, and walked to the door. She opened them hesitantly, but she knew who was behind them.

"You still don't see the point in speaking," A hoarse voice came from somewhere in the distance, but she didn't hear that, overwhelmed by a wave of painful memories.

_You're disgusting._

_Spoken quickly, nervously, filled with anger and aggression, words that shattered her soul into millions of pieces._

_And these pieces pierced her heart like glass, tearing it apart with great force. An indescribable pain, ruining her fragile, post-war psyche._

_He regretted it. He was apologizing. He promised. She was his girlfriend after all, and he rose unnecessarily. He shouldn't, it's his fault, he's apologizing, begging._

_She accepted the apology. With a blank, distant gaze and a scar on his cheek that was certainly disgusting._

Snow began to fall, changing the colours of the world. Deep, depressive grey gave way to flawless, innocent white; she littered the remnants of autumn, opening the doors of the queen of winter. The atmosphere was clearing up and getting ready for changes.

He lit a fire in the fireplace and made her a new cup of tea, this time adding some brandy. As usual, she hadn't commented on the fact, she was sipping an amber liquid.

"Someday you will have to speak up, deal with the past. You cannot be silent for the rest of your life. "He looked at her carefully, and she nodded.

"We both have to face it." He added, and she paled. He practically heard her swallow.

Looking at the cup, she said softly, "I know."

_She was not prepared for such a sight. If she returned the promised hour later ..._

_She would live in sweet unawareness, not knowing that ..._

_In fact, he always had a soft spot for Fleur, why was she even kidding herself? And what happened during the Triwizard Tournament, after the second competition? Exactly._

_Only she didn’t think that the French woman was capable of being so calculating, after all, she had recently got married._

_The Wedding…_

_She then turned, Bill standing behind her back, watching as well._

_And he had seen exactly what she saw._

* * *

**II**

* * *

She knew she had to start speaking that otherwise the words would suffocate her from within. They will burn her, turn her to ashes. Torment until they reach the deepest recesses of her soul.

She was already crumbling, accepting this fact. But it fucking hurt. And it was going to hurt even more.

It was the easiest to deny sensations, thoughts, and feelings. Just like running away.

Hermione did not count how much time they remained in such apathy, in mourning. Lost count after a few days. If it weren't for Bill's visits, she might even have starved, but she didn't care.

She didn't feel. She didn't want to feel. Consciousness turned out to be the worst punishment she had ever received in her ideal life.

And all this for innocence, love, joy, will to live, smile.

On her next visit, she noticed a change, subtle but very distinct.

Bill was very tense. Even the tea tasted different than usual.

And suddenly it dawned on her. Like she got a spell in the back.

Her eyes widened and she took a breath of air as if she hadn't been breathing in a long time. She felt her lungs fill up.

Everything became clearer.

'' Hermione? 'Bill noticed that she turned pale and became weirder. She looked at him and blinked.

These were not the eyes of an existing woman plunged into nothingness. They were shiny again, transparent and had that old expression.

She calmed her breathing and closed her eyes. The truth had come to her.

When she looked up, he noticed the purest fear. Once deeply hidden, it has now surfaced. He just didn't know what had caused it.

"You got divorced," she whispered, her voice trembling, her words hard to catch, but clear, blunt nevertheless.

,,Yes. "He replied softly, he understood already.

"You saw exactly what I saw ..." She broke off as if every word hurt. ,, Exactly the same. ''

She fell silent and in a moment her eyesight was blank. The spark faded and the haze returned. And silence.

And the snow continued to fall, the fire crackled merrily in the fireplace, the tea got cold.

She asked him not to come.

She didn't want to see anyone. She wanted to sink into solitude, to be consumed by her. It's best to sleep through the pain.

She didn't want to hear anything. And while the silence was driving her crazy, she preferred it to Bill's monologue.

She did not want to feel any presence next to her. It distracted her, made her think. And thinking was hard, thoughts were sometimes uncomfortable.

She didn't want to touch the hot mug of tea again, didn't want to taste the brandy on her tongue. Admittedly, it made thoughts blur, but the tongue unraveled. And she even wanted to talk, which terrified her.

She wanted nothing.

But he refused. And he stubbornly showed up with impeccable punctuality, down to the minute. And he repeated the patterns, made her tea with brandy, gave her a monologue. As if nothing had happened.

And she only heard that he was speaking more and more quietly, staying shorter and shorter, hardly smiling - as if he was losing strength.

Fatigue spoke through his body - dark circles under his eyes, an unnatural pale complexion contrasting with the colour of his hair, bruises on his hands from clenched fists.

But it wasn't exactly fatigue here.

One day he was silent from the threshold. He hesitated, but stepped through the threshold. He brushed off his gloves, hesitantly began to undress, but he was reluctant to do so, as if he didn't want to.

Hermione felt uncomfortable. He was never like this, so what was behind this behavior?

As he was about to take off his jacket, he paused.

'' I can't go on like this, Hermione. '' She saw a whole range of feelings in his eyes, but despair was most obvious. She saw a reflection of herself, her feelings back then.

"I can't do that anymore."

Hermione came over without a word and wanted to take off his jacket, but he protested. He broke free from her grip, opened the door and left, and she was standing. She watched him walk huddled, wade through the snow.

Everything reached her. She turned and went to the mirror. She looked at them.

The eyes were not so empty anymore. She saw a piece of her former self. Glimmer, spark of hope. She felt her heart pound wildly.

It came back, her heart started to live again.

Water for tea boiled, but there was no one to make it. And the snow continued to fall. And wasn’t going to stop.

* * *

**III**

She has waited.

* * *

She waited patiently.

She waited, looking impatiently at her watch, staring out the window, looking at the door, then at the clock again.

Minutes passed, inexorably, slowly, but as if at great speed.

He did not come.

She waited. And she looked at her watch. And while waiting she went to the window, looking at the road.

She expected there to be a knock, the handle to spring open, and to hear Bill's voice.

He did not come.

The days passed and she was living on illusions. And in this waiting, she has approached the windows, opened the curtains and sat on the windowsill. She was watchind as winter slowly passed, as spring has been approaching. Like the fire in the fireplace, it slowly dies out, and the sweaters **are** being hide in the trunks. She opened the window, letting in the fresh air. Sometimes she brushed her hair or read a book, sometimes just lay on the couch staring at the ceiling.

When spring came permanently, she decided to open the door and go outside.

She stood on the porch, wrapped in a sweater, and looked a little uneasily around. She noticed that there was a house opposite, with a woman living in it. She was clearly her neighbor, and she was just working in the backyard.

Hermione shook her head. Why had she not noticed this before?

She took a few steps uncertainly and took a deep breath.

She was tired of waiting.

_Shell Cottage._

Shell Cottage was silent, as if no one was there. Hermione left the fireplace and looked around the kitchen. She couldn't see any mess, it was perfect, sterile, in order. She went into the living room, but there was no sign of Bill here either.

She looked out the window and sighed.

He was sitting on the beach.

She opened the door noiselessly and walked towards him. Shy, but with a certain amount of firmness, she stood behind his back.

He sensed her presence because he twitched, instantly stiffening.

"You said I would have to start talking to deal with the past. You actually said we'd both have to face it. And those were the right words. First of all, real. ‘’ Her voice was still hoarse. ‘’ From the very beginning you tried to make me wake up, come back to life. You did your best, but I was stubbornly selfish. I thought it only affected me, that I was the only victim of the game of fate. I was wrong. And that's why I failed at the most important moment for you. All along the line.”

There was a moment of silence, so Hermione decided to sit next to him.

,, We both have scars. Both the physical and the mental ones. They are not fully healed yet and it will be a long time before they do. However, I think it will be easier for us if we try to fight together. Hand in hand.

Bill turned his head to look at her. She woke up.

"Hermione ...”

The brown-haired girl shook her head and hid her face in her hands.

„ Does what I'm saying make any sense? You wanted me to start talking, but… ” She stopped suddenly.

"Hermione ...”

She looked up and saw that he was smiling. It was a sad smile, but real, from the bottom of his heart. He took her hand and said:

„We can do it, Hermione. Together.”

FIN.


End file.
